Page 86 of The Casanova Complex

And Bennett’s alone. That makes me sad for him.

Even on the holidays Dad works, Elliott and I still have each other, so at least we’re not completely alone.

My fingers fly across the screen before I can even give myself a chance to think about what I’m typing.

ME: Wanna come have dinner with us? There’s way too much food

He doesn’t immediately respond, and it makes my stomach churn. Shit.

Was that weird? Should I have not invited him?

A few seconds later, I’m still staring at the screen when the dots begin to bounce with his response.

I blow out a sigh.

GOOD BOY: I don’t want to interrupt time with your family

ME: As if. It’ll probably make Elliott’s year to have you over. Plus… my Dad knows that we’re “dating”. Along with being your biggest fan, my brother also has the world’s loudest mouth

ME: It would be weird if you didn’t come really

GOOD BOY: Yeah?

ME: Yeah. We’re eating in fifteen so… you better hurry

Not even thirty seconds later, a notification comes through showing his ETA.

Twelve minutes.

I’m still smiling when I set my phone on the counter and open the oven.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

BENNETT

My palms are sweating as I stand on Merritt’s front steps, waiting for her to answer the door. I drag them down the front of my pants and suck in a breath, trying to quell the storm of nerves thrashing in the pit of my stomach.

I’m anxious as fuck.

It’s the first time I’ve ever met a girl’s dad before.

My girlfriend’s dad.

Fake girlfriend… but he doesn’t know that.

So yeah, I’m slightly freaking the fuck out.

I’m surprised as fuck that she even invited me tonight, but I’m not questioning it, because despite being more nervous than I was when I played my first game in the net at OU, I’m exactly where I want to be.

Being nervous isn’t shit when I get to spend a night with her and her family.

I’m wiping my palms on my pants again when the front door opens, and Merritt stands on the other side, wearing a small smile, her eyebrow lifted.

I quickly shove my hands into the pockets of my sweats and smile. “Hey.”

She laughs quietly, biting her lip. “Hey yourself, Goalie.”

I would’ve brought flowers or something, but I remember how much she hates them, and I have no idea how she’d react if I did bring something, although now I’m second-guessing the decision to show up empty-handed.